The Idiocy of Naivety
by Oblivious to the Obvious
Summary: For one tiny moment I imagine a flicker of remorse. But then I blink and it's gone. And so is he, running as fast as he can, making use of the excellent distraction. And I'm left alone, defencless against the mutts. Cato/OC


**Chapter One - The Reaping**

"You know what," I say, casually leaning against the wooden fence, "I think I might volunteer this year."

My statement draws the attention of a few kids standing close by, eyes now wide with surprise and mouths slightly agape in wonder at the obviously mentally ill girl in front of them.

Not Larek, though. Instead my best friend laughs, removes his ridiculously large straw hat to try to unstick some of his inky black hair from where sweat has plastered it to his head, and resumes walking. "I'm sure you will, Sage."

I frown at his reaction. "Nah, I'm serious. You don't reckon I will?"

Larek doesn't grace me with a response.

"Because I will, y'know. 'Cause I think I can win. I mean, Mom did it, so it can't be all that ha– Ow!" A sharp pain in my arm cuts me off. It doesn't take a genius to realise what Larek's annoyed look and large stick in his hand means. "Larek! What was that for?"

He doesn't laugh and make a joke of it like I expect him to. "You can't even dodge a stick!"

"Shut up! You caught me off guard is all." I push myself off the fence to walk up to him.

Larek shakes his head. "Come on, we're going to be late."

By many standards, Larek and I are considered the luckier members of District 9. Larek being the mayor's only son makes him eligible to certain privileges, and my mother being the first – and _only _– female victor from District 9 means that I've lived the life of luxury, or at least, as luxurious as you can get in the middle of an endless heat wave. Instead of being forced to spend endless hours in the fields harvesting wheat and grains, Larek's dad was able to secure us positions as interns in his office, and at the end of the day, we walk back to my house where Mom treats us to ice cream.

It's a good cycle.

Of course, today being the day of the reaping means that everything's thrown slightly off course. Work's cancelled for the day (not that I'm complaining) and for the next month hours will be rather odd, varying from late night shifts to rushed half-hour sessions of organising paperwork, all so we don't miss the compulsory viewing of the Hunger Games in the City Square. Not to mention that I wont have the ice cream to look forward to at home because Mom will be in the Capitol trying to help the tributes.

Normally this means I'm left in the (not as) capable hands of my Dad who, despite all his excellent qualities, is useless when it comes to having ice cream prepared for Larek and I upon our arrival at home. It's not that he's bad, he's just got a 'whatever will happen, will happen' outlook on life, which is a refreshing break to Mum's sometimes overbearing need for complete control, but not good when it means that, should I return with a craving for ice cream, I'm to find a way to pass it on the journey that is life i.e. walk by the fridge.

Unfortunately because I'm running late I don't have time to casually drop by home for the last pre-prepared bowl of cool delicacy before the reaping, and Larek and I are forced to sprint to the already crowded city square. It's hard to push our way through the clump of children to get our names recorded, and the effort required to break through the group of girls, all squeezed shoulder to shoulder, is astronomical, all made harder by the fact that we here in District 9 are well known for being the biggest sulks in Panem, unwilling to budge when prompted.

It's like our way of coping. It isn't odd to notice the tribute from District 9 holding back sniffles, so seemingly weak in comparison to the others who, despite any fear they feel, at least make a better effort at hiding it.

Once I manage to catch sight of the thin, almost invisible rope separating the seventeen year olds from the sixteen year olds, I hurry down. Despite my earlier bravado with the idea of volunteering, the actual process of the reaping is the worst part of the day, not because I have to watch two kids be chosen for what is ultimately their deaths, but because without Mom by my side, it's like every advantage I have because of her is gone, and for once I'm at equal risk as everybody else. That's why I'd prefer to volunteer. At least I can feel like I had a choice.

Once I've safely nestled myself between two girls, one leaning on her friend, sobbing uncontrollably, the other surveying the rest of us as if to compare who'll have a better chance in the arena. Pushing myself up onto my toes in order to see past the tall girl in front of me, I spy the podium already set up, five deck chairs in a neat line, two glass bowls filled to the brim with folded pieces of paper, and between them a single microphone, connected to a generator inside the Justice Building by multiple extension cords. Four of the chairs are already occupied: Mom, of course, sitting in the very middle, calm and collected. To her left are our other two Victors; Cartis, a senile seventy-something year old man who looks five seconds away from wandering off. And Julian, our latest Victor, who can't seem to sit still. And of course on the very end, Larek's dad, the mayor, sitting on the end, nervously making some last minute adjustments to the speech he's about to present.

It's not an unusual occurrence for these four people to be present before the final member of the formal party arrives. Our lovely escort Cog Thistleweed, bless his pink hair, makes sure that he always looks his best for us, this of course meaning that the reaping starts far later than planned and is always rushed.

Today's no exception to that.

So as usual, the man responsible for picking out the names of the children destined to compete in the Hunger Games is running like a madman when we first catch sight of him, making sure to slow his pace once in view of the setup cameras to relay the entire reaping live to all of Panem. Walking up to the rickety handmade podium, he greets everyone with extravagant, over the top kisses on the cheek before finally sitting as an indication for everything to start.

Like always, the mayor's speech doesn't last long. He gives a few, quick points about the history of the Games before introducing Cog, as though we've all forgotten his name. Cog jumps up and runs the few steps to the microphone, almost bowling Larek's dad over in the process.

"Welcome everybody!" he greets us, the tower of pink hair on his head wobbling slightly as he speaks. "I hope you're all excited!" There isn't even a second's pause before he moves on: "Excellent! Now let's get started!" He walks over to the first glass bowl and peers inside it like he's searching for his favourite snack in the pantry. "Ladies first, yes?"

Once again there's no time to answer before he shoves a large, beefy hand inside the bowl, ignoring the few papers that fall to the ground as he digs in there, fingers clenching and unclenching on various folded pieces of paper before he finally chooses the one he wants to pull out.

He unnecessarily clears his throat as he opens the paper, not tantalizingly slowly like many other escorts. Instead, he wastes no time in announcing the name "Sage Henderson," into the microphone.

It takes me a few seconds to realise that he's said my name.

I give a small jump in slight surprise and attempt to push my way through the small group of girls blocking my exit. Not that it's hard - after the first few people realise that I'm the one about to walk up to the stage they make a small pathway almost instantly. I sneak a glance at Mom while hurrying up to the podium, only a touch thrown to see that she's now deathly pale, no longer calm, with an iron grip on the arm of her chair.

Cog, meanwhile, doesn't even wait for me to get up to the stage before continuing on to the pick the male tribute. I reach the stage just as he announces the name. Now I pause, and for the first time, I am really worried.

I can handle the idea of going into the arena on my own.

I can't handle the idea of going in with Larek.

* * *

**So, new story! Fun, yeah? Alright, short first chapter, I know. They'll be longer after this, I promise. and this isn't like all those other promises I made to update that I never really followed through with.**

**And yes, the chapter title ****_is _****boring, but I CAN'T THINK OF ANY GOOD TITLES FOR ANYTHING! Including the title of the story, so don't judge, I'll probably change it later anyway.**

**And I'm not even going to say that I'll update soon. I think that's just jinxing it.**

**So, am I allowed to ask for reviews again, cause it's a new story and all? Or is that just still a big no-go zone? Cause if I can, I really want some feedback on this. Like, should I continue or no? Because, trust me, it's definitely different from Common Sense (like Cato's (hopefully) less OOC! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!)**


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